In Memoriam A. H. H.: 105. To-Night Ungather'D Let Us Leave

To-night ungather’d let us leave

This laurel, let this holly stand:

We live within the stranger’s land,

And strangely falls our Christmas-eve.

Our father’s dust is left alone

And silent under other snows:

There in due time the woodbine blows,

The violet comes, but we are gone.

No more shall wayward grief abuse

The genial hour with mask and mime;

For change of place, like growth of time,

Has broke the bond of dying use.

Let cares that petty shadows cast,

By which our lives are chiefly proved,

A little spare the night I loved,

And hold it solemn to the past.

But let no footstep beat the floor,

Nor bowl of wassail mantle warm;

For who would keep an ancient form

Thro’ which the spirit breathes no more?

Be neither song, nor game, nor feast;

Nor harp be touch’d, nor flute be blown;

No dance, no motion, save alone

What lightens in the lucid east

Of rising worlds by yonder wood.

Long sleeps the summer in the seed;

Run out your measured arcs, and lead

The closing cycle rich in good.

In Memoriam A. H. H.: 105. To-Night Ungather’D Let Us Leave